


Saving Grace

by GalekhXigisi



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: """Suicide""", Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Faked Suicide, Hurt No Comfort, Klaus Gets Fucked Up, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Murder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, References to Supernatural (TV), Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sober Klaus Hargreeves, Temporary Character Death, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-18 09:04:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18246686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalekhXigisi/pseuds/GalekhXigisi
Summary: Y'all have been so fuckin amazing sjdkshdlshjkfhaskj y'all are nice as shit





	1. Chapter 1

There’s something painful about being back in his old childhood home once again. It wasn’t like when he had come back for his father’s funeral ten days ago. It was so much different. He was perfectly sober, no drugs in his system since before Cha Cha and Hazel. It didn’t help that he was in his thirteen-year-old selves’ body. Well, it helped at certain points, but the timeframe was far from something that he wanted. Klaus had his brother back and an added  _ actual _ sister, too, one that wasn’t seen as somewhat excess and able to shed off. That’s how everyone had seen him years ago, too, he knew it. Hell, they probably saw him that way until the night before, when he was summoning Ben’s ghost directly in front of everyone. 

 

His hands trace through his messy coils of hair. They hadn’t been this way when he was twelve. He had made sure to straighten them, keep his hair short and tame. But after the mausoleum came into his life and his brother passed right in front of him, well, he let himself go in more ways than one. Thankfully, though, he seems to be holding himself up just fine, despite having just been pulled up harshly by his father. He passed a guilty look with Ben as he slipped through the halls, Pogo and Reginald both on opposing sides of his body. He had made sure Ben was never in the mausoleum with him. He had no idea if the other had a  _ single _ idea about his training. 

 

It was routine. He immediately forced himself to get the Hell with the program. He could swim or drown. He  _ had _ to swim. He’s spent enough time drowning and was just  _ finally _ getting somewhat free, getting out of drugs. He could save his brother now, which was so incredibly  _ good. _ Yeah, saving him was good, he could do it. He refused to let any of that happen again. He would be there for Ben, even if it killed him in the process. 

 

Pogo seals the exit, looking guiltily at him. As soon as the door is shut, the voices begin to scream inside his head. Lights flash, despite there being literally  _ nothing _ to provide light in there. It was the spirit’s own selves. Klaus brings his hands over his ears, cupping them in a desperate attempt to calm the wailing. Despite him having almost thirty-one years in training with the spirits, only fourteen had been sober, and only eight of those fourteen years were spent actively knowing what his power was, that he wasn’t hallucinating as his so-called family had thought. That had been when he had finally fessed up about seeing two of the nannies Vanya had killed when she was four over morning’s breakfast. In short, that simply means that he actually had no idea how in the  _ fuck _ to get rid of the spirits at hand. He never had known. Ben, thankfully, had always respected his wishes to fuck off when he asked him to. 

 

He expects them to just pass through his body. They  _ always _ passed through his body, aside from those three times with Ben, but who was he to say something so absurd? Instead, though, vicious nails claw at his arms, leaving him with a pain that feels similar to acid getting thrown on his body. Klaus had had it happen before more than once, though those scars had been erased the instant he de-aged. Things were about to get wild and he knew it. If they weren’t already obnoxiously present, they painfully were now. 

 

-

 

Pogo can’t help the gasp that leaves his throat when he opens the door to the mausoleum. It would typically just hold Klaus, seated in the corner, panicking. Now, though, it displayed the teenager hanging from a rope, head drooped towards the ground, face discolored. His throat had more than just a few marks from scratches, his nails bloodied. Nail marks covered his body, just leaving his face be. Nasty, discolored skin surrounded that. 

 

“Dear mother of God,” the doctor croaks out, brows furrowed as he stares at the body. It wasn’t swaying, no, but when he went up to it, Klaus was still warm. He was still bleeding. However, his breathing and pulse were both gone. 

 

“Such a pity,” Reginald says, humming. “Bring him with us, Pogo. We will have a funeral tonight so the children may say goodbye.” He turns, hands tucked behind his back as he walks. “I’ll inform Grace of what she must prepare for.” He doesn’t give the other a chance to speak, just moving as if he had only seen a science experiment frog die. To him, the seven, no,  _ six _ children he housed might as well have been nothing more. 

 

-

 

_ “I still don’t like you,” the little grim prompts, glaring at Klaus. “Child or not, you are a thorn in my side.” She seems to somewhat relax, thankfully.  _

 

_ “Sorry,” he mumbles in return. Klaus would normally bite back with some sarcasm, something more about his after death beliefs, but nothing seemed to be forming. He had been killed last time, yes, but this was so much more different. These were by  _ spirits _ that had been turned insane by their own sins and anger over their miserable afterlife. He pities them far more than he feels anger towards them. He simply can’t find it in his system to.  _

 

_ “You’ve changed since I last saw you, I’ll admit.”  _

 

_ “I’m tiny now, yeah.” he nods, rolling his eyes softly.  _

 

_ “Still an ass, though.” She grumbles the response, rolling her eyes as well. “I’m putting you back, now. Neither Heaven nor Hell want you. I have no idea how you’re even accepted into heaven, but you are. You cause too much chaos.”  _

 

_ He quips, “And you talk too much.”  _

 

_ She glares, snapping her fingers. _

 

-

 

It had actually been three days after Klaus’ death that they got to the funeral. Despite Grace being an android, she still mourned, unable to look at Klaus’ dead body for the first day a half. She eventually does go into the room, salty tears falling down her face, though it’s odd. She had never cried aside from Ben’s official death and Five’s death announcement. Other than that, no one had ever seen her mourn, and yet the android couldn’t do anything for so long. It was painful for them all to watch, though they actually had no idea what was going on. 

 

The second day is then Ben asks, “Where’s Klaus,” to their father. The others were ready for a mission, ready to leave and go. However, the other didn’t seem to be anywhere near them, missing out. He never once missed a mission. He always fought through whatever in the Hell he was going through to attend.  _ Always. _

 

“He’s dead,” the adult answers simply. “The funeral will be held tomorrow night.” 

 

“He’s dead,” Vanya echoes. Based on her posture, the others can tell she’s doing her best not to get upset, not to cry, not to shatter something in the room. “How’d he die? What happened?” 

 

The others instantly begin to echo her question> Vanya wants to know how, Five wants to know when, and so on. Diego pipes up with  _ how. _ That one earns even more worry. 

 

“He did not use his powers correctly and the ghosts took advantage of his weakness, killing him. Now, come, before someone else is murdered.” 

 

-

 

The six siblings stand in front of the casket, Pogo off to the left and Grace off to the right. The android looks so much more upset. Her facial expression is completely devoid of emotion. Tears slipped swiftly down her cheeks, red lipstick somehow still perfect as could be. It was just as depressing as the corpse in the box. 

 

Klaus was paler than normal. His lips were the tiniest pinch of peach, looking unnatural. His hair coiled wildly and his eyes stayed shut. He was in a fancy suit, one that didn’t look like him in the least. Hell, he probably would have preferred a dress, now that the siblings thought about it. They didn’t want to think about it, though. 

 

Their eyes were filled with tears, Ben choking on near silent sobs. Five may have been detached from his family somewhat, but he still felt his eyes and throat burn with the impending threats of harsh emotions. He felt sickly. Diego wasn’t doing any better than he was, more so in the same boat as Ben than anything else. Vanya was leaning against Allison. The taller girl was fully prepared to choke down her silent sobs to comfort her sister and keep her from destroying anything on accident at any given moment. Luther, however, seemed to be matching with their mother, an occasional sniffle leaving him. 

 

“Would anyone like to say some words,” Pogo prompts the teenagers. He attempts to stay as calm as he can muster. He knew he was at fault here, but he’d be damned if he let that slip. That would mean the entire family would shun him, repulsed by him. He couldn’t have that. He had a job to do. 

 

Before anyone has a chance to say anything, Klaus’ corpse springs up, the teenager sucking in a breathe. He looks at the others standing around him as he coughs, forcing air into his lungs. Instead of giving a normal response, he groans, “Oh, not  _ again. _ Death is always so annoying, amirite?” He smirks, eyes flicking over himself as he slyly attempts to get the Hell out of there. He pulls himself out of the box within two slick motions, landing on the floor gracefully. This wasn’t the first time he had died, no, probably the seventh, but he had never actually been put in a coffin. “How long was I out?” 

 

Ben immediately comes up to hug his brother, choking on a sob. Diego follows. The others pass guilty looks over him. 

 

“Damn, that long? Felt like three minutes.” 

 

“It was three days,” Vanya wails, choking out a sob as she launches herself into a hug with him. Even Five joins them, Allison and Luther slowly trickling to offer their contact. 

 

Klaus snorts. “Almost thirty-one years of age and none of you have ever even pretended to like me as much as you currently do. Maybe Ben, but the rest of you are making this weird.” 

 

Pogo raises a brow at the  _ thirty-one years _ part, but he seems to push it away in favor of leaving the room. He leaves the teenagers to their festivities, going to inform the  _ man of the house _ about their current situation, about the boy that seems to have escaped death.


	2. Chapter 2

Seven children sat around the courtyard, one currently being the center of attention. However, that one currently seemed to be focused on anything  _ but _ what was at hand. Actually, he was staring at a wall, his mind unable to find the words, unable to actually make sense of what in the Hell was going on. He was so damn confused as to how three minutes could turn into three days. 

 

“So,” Diego speaks slowly, capturing Klaus’ attention somehow, “I have a quest-stion.” He hates being back. Being back means his stutter is back, that his mind is roughly coated in anger and denial. It’s annoying. 

 

Klaus purses his lips. His reaction is immediate, which was so odd, considering how he had been acting since they’d all returned. He hums and sighs softly. “Ben and I were following Luther to help him from doing something horrible and all that brotherly crap, but when we got there, Luther was high off his ass on some random drug he had thrown at him. He accidentally took some girl from her man or whatever and he came after him with a bat. I, being the absolute  _ dumbass _ that I am, did the only thing I could think of and sort of just, well, threw myself on him?” He shrugs halfheartedly, ignoring Ben’s furrowed brows. “He threw me and I just kind of died? And all those other times I overdosed, too. I’ve died, I don’t know, maybe seven times? Eight now?” 

 

“You  _ died _ then,” Ben asks, brows knit together with worry now. 

 

The other flinches. “Hey, hey, that doesn’t matter! You said I was only out for a few minutes! I talked to God or Death or whatever. I’m not exactly sure who she was, but she showed me Dad and he said he killed himself, so I have no idea.” Klaus pointedly avoids giving any more information about Her or their father. “I think it’s actually nine times. I died when I was with Dave.” 

 

“Who’s Dave,” Vanya pries. 

 

Klaus looks at her for a moment, eyes owl-like as he blinks. He looks like he’s attempting to flush his brain of any and all memories. He takes a moment before painfully correcting himself, “I meant drugs.” 

 

Allison shakes her head. “Who’s Dave?” 

 

“No,” Klaus speaks, standing up abruptly. He shakes his head, sure to let them know that he wasn’t going to say it. “I’m not getting into that. Not with you, not with Five, not with  _ anyone. _ Ben and Diego know, but that’s  _ it, _ got it?” 

 

“Klaus,” Diego attempts, gently grabbing Klaus’ hand. There’s a sharp flinch that makes him withdraw within an instant. His eyes speak out the apology for him. “You can trust them, okay? You can say it. They’re not Dad, they won’t do anything.” His own brows furrow, now similar to Ben’s worried expression. “It’s just us.” 

 

“You’ve threatened me with knives,” Klaus reminds, crossing his arms cautiously. 

 

“They’re the  _ now _ version of them, okay? We aren’t the Hargreeves that seek out murdering each other like we used to, okay? I’ve changed, you’ve changed. You’re sober now, too.” 

 

Klaus sighs, withdrawing from the group cautiously. He nods slowly. The other’s worried stares don’t dare help his nerves. “He… He was my boyfriend when it was just me and him at war in Vietnam.” He laces his fingers together. “Honestly, he was the only person that I loved more than myself.” Klaus doesn’t mention the fact that he actually loves his family more than himself, too. There was a lot that he loved more than himself. “You guys probably would have loved him. He was so nice and… Nevermind.” He cracks his knuckles, wanting them to say something  _ anything. _

 

Vanya smiles softly. “He sounds amazing. What was he like, Klaus? I’d love to know about him.” 

 

Klaus stares at her with the same owlish eyes. They have no idea how to respond to it, but Vanya continues to smile politely, genuinely wanting to know about her brother’s ex-boyfriend. With Klaus being such a wild card, they expected a multitude of reactions, Screaming praises, an annoyed pass off, and so on. However, none of them expected him to suddenly break out into sobs, painful ones that wreck his body, making him jolt. She offers open arms, inviting him into a hug. He doesn’t dare pass it up, falling into her arms and choking on sobs. 

 

“He was so beautiful,” he whimpers, though it’s slightly muffled since he had his face buried in Vanya’s shoulder. Five gently pats his back just above where Vanya is rubbing soothing circles. “He was nice and so strong, too. Dave was an amazing soldier. He died on the field, right beside me. W-W-We-We were all-” He has to pause, choking on sobs. He pulls away from his sister to let out a wet cough into his elbow. She invites him back in the instant he’s finished, offering comfort to him. “He was killed an-and we could sa-sa-v-save him. Ten months and we were gonna get m-married.” He becomes a puddle of sobs. No one dares disturb him, offering their condolences and comfort as much as they can. 

 

Klaus quickly tires himself out, sobs becoming hiccups, hiccups becoming raspy breathing, and raspy breathing becoming calm. The comforting coils of sleep wrap around his body, overtaking his conscious. Luther slowly pries him from Vanya, taking him to Ben’s room, where Ben and Diego end up bunking with the other, there to provide comfort for when he wakes up. They don’t discuss what happened. That was a discussion for the morning when Klaus was present and there to correct and provide facts. 

 

Unfortunately, they don’t get the morning. Their free moment before breakfast was destroyed as Reginald rips the already drained child away from his siblings, pulling him into a room with a cold, metal table. The adult glares, showing him a paper gown. “Put this on,” he speaks, not minding the flinch he gets in return. Klaus was obedient, as always. He was going to drown beneath the tidal waves of guilt and anxiety, but he didn’t provide that comment. 

 

“Get on the table,” Reginald instructs. Klaus listens. He knows better than to question what Reginald does. The older begins to hook him up to a heart monitor, sticking the pads to his chest. He looks for a vein for an IV, not caring that the younger instantly looks away, tears pricking at his eyes. Pogo sleeps into the room somewhere during the seventh pricking attempt at finding a vein that he doesn’t instantly blow through. There was nothing to numb him as the entire inch long needle slipped into his wrist, making him choke on a sob. It was so incredibly painful on the nerves there, but nothing he couldn’t handle. 

 

“We’re going to test how long you can or cannot be dead,” the other states simply, watching Pogo slip forward with a needle of air in his hands. He passes it to his master, guilt filling the monkey-human hybrid. “Thank you, Pogo. Klaus, you must now lay flat.” 

 

Klaus knows what’s going to happen. A few trickles of air will press into his bloodstream, most likely going to enter in through his toes. If it was done that way, it would cause a heart attack and look natural on an autopsy, just in case he doesn’t make it out. Given his drug history and the two years that he had actually been actively using, it wouldn’t be that far of a stretch. It was horribly executed with perfection. 

 

His toes coil in pain as he lets out a whimper, body flushing color. Klaus whines, tears soaking his cheeks. He feels lightheaded, which makes him thankful that he’s laying down because he would have fallen if he weren’t. His mind fills with the impending fear of something new being in his body, where it simply shouldn’t be. He mewls out in fear, pulling his foot away. However, Reginald’s grip is so much stronger on him. His heart was going too fast, too loud in his ears. The three ghosts that he hadn’t even noticed were in the room solidified, successfully making Reginald unceremoniously jerk the syringe away. Klaus lets out a loud, painful yelp. Unfortunately, though, the pained heart attack pulls him up first, snatching his life within its grasp. 

 

_ “I told you I didn’t want you back here,” the Girl groans. This time, She’s on a unicycle, which would honestly look so much more comical if Klaus wasn’t having a panic attack right in front of Death/God Herself. “And a suicide this time? That’s rather pathetic, even for you, and I’ve seen you overdose seven times.”  _

 

_ That sparks something painful in Klaus’ chest. “Suicide? But I didn’t-”  _

 

_ “You knew what was going to happen and you wanted it to happen, didn’t you?” Klaus doesn’t respond. She hums. “Exactly, Klaus. This is far from a healthy way to live.”  _

 

_ “But I’m not living.”  _

 

_ “Well, not at the moment, no, but I am going to send you back. I simply cannot have you here, ruining what I’ve built. It’s such a shame for you, honestly. I suggest you get out of there before Reginald swallows you up in his clutches.”  _

 

_ Klaus feigns surprise. “Ah, yes, Miss God or Death or whatever you are-”  _

 

_ “I’m both,” She supplies, “I take souls for heaven.”  _

 

_ “Whatever. My point here is what do you suggest? I can’t just  _ poof,” _ he makes an explosive gesture with both hands, eyes a little wide and fingers spread, “him out of existence and it’s not like I can kill him, either. I doubt Allison would be down with talking him into being nice with her little rumor power.”  _

 

_ She shakes her head. “You’re so dull sometimes, Klaus. You need to get your head straight-”  _

 

_ “I’m gay, I can’t do that.”  _

 

_ “Sexuality has nothing to do with this conversation and your puns are not going to help you get out of this situation, either. You’ve just barely scratched the surface of your powers, as well as your immorality. Only the end of all time can truly kill you. You can bring the end of the world with you! You’re just as important of a chess piece as Vanya! Get that through your thick skull!” She slaps him in the face without remorse for the bruise it leaves. _

 

The contact is all Klaus needs to awaken. His body slams forward, eyes wide as he panics. A hand comes up to his cheek, his own hand, actually. There’s the distinct sound of a watch clicking. “Three hours, two minutes, and seventeen seconds,” Reginald speaks up, jotting the results down on his notepad. “Remarkable you can stay dead so long and return so quickly.” He marks down a few words, quickly scribbling in the red book with his initials labeled in gold. “Pogo, return his clothes and then place Number Four in the mausoleum for further testing.” 

 

“No,” Klaus rasps, panicking even more. He rips out the IV, which is actually incredibly painful on him. “No, no, please, not again!” 

 

Reginald stands, eyes half-lidded in annoyance. “Until you learn to fully control your power, we will be doing this daily, as well as the mausoleum. That is final, Number Four.” 

 

The other begs for him not to do it, not to put him back in, but it all ends the same, the child getting thrown into the mausoleum. This time, though, he’s equipped with an iron spoon. Amazing what could and couldn’t ward off spirits, he guessed. Supernatural could never compare to actually facing a ghost head on, though. 


	3. Chapter 3

Iron doesn’t kill ghosts. It doesn’t make them disappear, either. It just burns their skin, nothing more. It’s enough to keep them from murdering him, but Klaus comes out with so many more cuts and bruises, seeking medical aid from grace within the first to seconds of being out. He hadn’t eaten anything in four days. Grace, thankfully, offers him waffles with an abundance of syrup, cleaning up her adopted son with all the care in the world. She’s so obviously blind to the clear abuse going on in the home. 

 

Diego sits at the table, helping his bother tend to the marking burns. Their mother doesn’t pry as to how he was harmed, just doing the motherly thing that was taking care of him. She keeps her happy calm, which does help both Diego and Klaus a lot more than either would let on. As soon as they’re both done, the two skip off to the courtyard, where Klaus stands and screams until his throat hurts and he feels like he’ll vomit. He holds onto Diego like he’ his last lifeline. In a way, he is.

 

Things weren’t changing for the better. Klaus stops offering information to his siblings, to even Ben and Diego. He lets life shift underneath him, ripping the metaphorical run out and replacing the floor with thorny roses that scrape at his skin, ripping flesh. He bleeds more often and doesn’t talk to god when she sees him. He doesn’t know how to escape, how to get out. He lets whatever Reginald wants to happen happen. 

 

“Here we are, Number Four,” Reginald speaks, pressing pills into his hand. “These are going to help you.” 

 

THey’re bland. Grey and cloudy, just like the skies were so commonly. It’s only been two months since they’ve returned, but Klaus was so quickly running out of options. He wants that high that he used to always have on him, but the stark reminder that he’s been clean for a full year slaps him in the face exactly as God had done before. 

 

He presses the pills into his mouth, swallowing them dry. His hands lace together and he draws in on himself. Reginald doesn’t ask. Instead, he supplies information to the other. “As you powers seem to be causing more harm than they are helping, we are going to begin restricting them.” He turns to the door. “Pogo, bring in Allison.” 

 

_ I heard a rumor you thought you could only talk to ghosts.  _

 

-

 

“You’re an accomplice  _ again,” _ Vanya yelps in anger. It’s not a question, just a speculation on the other’s explanation. The malice in her voice wasn’t even aimed at her sister, instead, at their shit father, of whom was currently out on a business trip, Pogo having joined him. That meant it was just Grace and the children. There was never sound to accompany the tapes, which made the other’s rather calm about their yelling. 

 

Klaus stares off into space, staring at a girl currently hula-hooping, or at least attempting to. It seems to be really hard considering that it keeps going through her disconnected middle. He feels like he’s floating on air. Not high, but floating. Maybe he feels sick. Yeah, Klaus actually has no idea how he feels. He really doesn’t mentally feel anything other than a little confusion as to why the little girl keeps trying with her efforts being so fruitless. 

 

“Klaus, what the  _ fuck _ are you doing,” Five suddenly belts out. 

 

Klaus turns towards the voice, all emotions suddenly gone as he lands flat on his ass, greeted with an incredibly cold ground. He glares at the others, rubbing his back halfheartedly. “What the fuck?” He stands up, bare feet connecting to the ground. 

 

“How were you doing that,” Ben asks. He rushes to his brother, helping pull him from the ground. 

 

Klaus stares at him for a moment, hands on his lower back as his top half leans backward, hips jutted forward, showing his bones at what looks like an awkward position. His eyes are blown, hand gesturing in a twirl in front of him as he huffs out a breath from his air-filled cheeks. “I, uh, couldn’t tell ya.” He shrugs partially, just as confused as them. “Just sorta stopped focusing on everything and-” He wiggled his fingers in front of him, hands pulling upwards. He blows air on his hands. 

 

“How expressive,” Five mumbles sarcastically. 

 

“I try, dear brother of mine that I love so very much.” 

 

“Oh, choke.” 

 

“Been there, done that.” He smirks, rolling a hand as he turns from the others. “When’re Pogo and Dad gonna be back? I need to know when I have to start panicking.” 

 

Luther’s brows furrows. “Panic? They’ll be back in three days.” 

 

“Three days to get high. Amazing.” 

 

“No,” everyone syncs up at the same time, reaching towards the other. 

 

Klaus pulls himself away from them. “I meant to learn how to control this, not get stoned, calm down! I haven’t done any of that since Cha Cha and Hazel!” 

 

“What’d you do with Cha Cha and Hazel,” Five butts in. 

 

Klaus’ eyes widened for a moment. He rips away from any and all contact whatsoever, hands shaking. “I… I was actually right.” His musing was far from happy. His brows furrow and he looks away from them, holding his own hands in disbelief. “Am I really not that important to this family?” 

 

Allison raising a brow. “Klaus, what the Hell are you talking about?” 

 

“So the only person that noticed I was gone for a day and a half was Deigo and Luther because those crazy fuckers wrote a note about it?  _ None _ of you noticed that I wasn’t there?” His hands move with his words, just as they always did. This time, though, it’s clear he’s rather angry with them, as well as hurting so incredibly much. His arms are thrown out as he wails an aspirated, “Ben only stuck with me because he was a Goddamn ghost!” He was tearing himself up over this, spirits around him flickering in and out with the sudden heightened emotions. “So if I were to run just like Five did, it really wouldn’t concern you that much? I’m really just Dad’s Failure and the family disappointment? I know I can’t do much on missions, but holy  _ shit! _ I’m a fucking Hargreeve, too, you selfish  _ bastards! _ I go missing and get tortured but the only one who cares enough is Diego’s lady cop that got herself killed because of it?” 

 

They can’t answer. Ben has no idea if he would have noticed Klaus disappearing if not for his ghostly self. He had been attached to Klaus since the beginning, just like every other spirit. Neither Diego nor Luther  _ had _ noticed until the message Cha Cha had left. Five hadn’t even considered what it actually meant when he had found out Klaus had time traveled. It was clear as daylight that neither of the sisters had known, either. 

 

Tears fall. “I told them that I was the least valuable member of the team and that none of you would actually notice if I was gone… Great to see I wasn’t lying to them.” He slips away from the group, not caring about Vanya’s worried yelp of his name. He wants to escape this family, to disappear, to float away from it all. There were so many different things he could do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all have been so fuckin amazing sjdkshdlshjkfhaskj y'all are nice as shit


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhh, there's disassociation and self-harm mentioned in this a lot. There's also vomiting and stuff, too. Death is somewhat discussed, depression, anxiety, drugs, and so on. THere's also a horrible brain cell joke that I wrote in because I have to write in something somewhat funny. THere's also the mention of an old stoner hippy lady, so, have fun I guess

Klaus misses a lot of things when he gets traveled back in time. For one, he misses the somewhat normallicy drugs had to offer. It meant the world was numb to him and he didn’t need to depend on whoever was closest to be living proof that they were physically there and not a horrible hallucination caused by his little power that seemed to bug at him non-stop. He misses when he was constantly in fear that one of them would touch him and leave marks, genuine marks that felt as if they were burnt into his skin, crescent moon shapes from dull nails engraved in his porcelain skin. Scars would pop up at random in places he far from expected them to actually be. Being sober seems to be overrated, given his powers, but he didn’t care. He had promised he wouldn’t do it again to not only his family but also _ Dave. _ he loved him, but Goddamnit, there were so many new scars that managed to pepper his skin, unbeknownst to him until he would see them in the mirror after wiping all that gunky shit out of his eyes. 

 

For two, he misses his body. He didn’t miss the constant ache of withdraw, no, but he missed the height and his scratchy beard. He missed when the only scars on his body were from horrid one night stands for drugs or a place to stay for a bit or shooting himself up with drugs that left lasting effects. Well, scars that weren’t caused by vengeful spirits, really. His body had so little scars compared to his current teenage self, who had only ever gotten stoned with the old lady two streets over that grew pot without actually knowing it was pot. She always made cookies for him, often infused with the weed after Klaus had shown her how to do it out on a whim. This time around, though, he doesn’t seem to have time to even come and visit her. 

 

For three, he misses his freedom. Then, when he was newly eighteen and the family’s designated failure, he didn’t have a place to call home. He had run two days after his birthday, just after Diego, who had left the morning he was legally of age. He had a roommate and all that he had picked up at only the age of sixteen. They had gotten along famously” until death.  _ [Until Klaus got in the way and got his dumbass self kidnapped. He blamed himself for her death, but he wouldn’t dare tell his brothers or sisters. That was a one-way ticket to Pity Town and he despised their pity almost as much as he despised himself.] _ He had roamed the streets with his only comfort being some Ritalin and a ghost that seemed to follow him around, his own personal ghost-brother he still ever-so-affectionately called Ben at any and all times. Ben had been his last resort to any and all things. Comfort, guilty conscience, and so on. They shared a collective three brain cells together.  _ [Three of ten in the entire family, though Five held five of them and Diego held the final two that he passed around with Vanya and Allison occasionally.] _

 

Klaus misses the freedom that had come with being a drifting dopehead. He misses the wild range of reactions he could get from anyone and everyone at his random shit. He was the never predictable wild card that drove his family to constant annoyance and anger. His options were so free then. No one had cared if he went missing, if he had died.  _ [He had done the second option countless times before.] _ He was just another drifter passing through the wind. There was no one there to worry about Klaus. If he truly ever died, at least he would still be with his brother, with possibly Dave, too. That was possible, it could happen,  _ right? _

 

Now, though, he’s tied down with any and all thoughts crushing him. His siblings worry, he knows they do, but everything stung at his mind, at his body. It felt like daggers were slicing at him.  _ [With Diego as his brother, he knew that feeling by heart.] _ His mind thickens with worry that he hadn’t felt in years. It was the true acceptance that he was  _ actually _ the least valuable member of the team. He had sarcastically mentioned it so many times, but actually knowing it was the  _ genuine _ truth, well, it  _ stung, _ to say the least. More than stung. It made acid creep inside his lungs, his body aches more and more out of his own anxious reminder of painful existence, made him vomit any and all contents from his body. He expelled every single thing with tears falling. 

 

His head felt like it was being stuffed with cotton. It felt so much worse than the time Klaus had taken the briefcase and ran. That had been pretty shitty, yes, but this was absolutely  _ horrid _ on him. He couldn’t scream anymore, not for the pain that was looming in and out of his mind. He probably would have passed out by now if he wasn’t so damn used to it. He does, however, feel the edges of darkness creeping around his vision. He may actually pass out soon, but he really could not care less. If he passed out, he passed out, that was that. There wasn’t a thing he could really do about it, honestly. 

 

Klaus’ mind is plagued by a deadly disease that is his own self. There’s the reminder of how depressed he had felt, of the anxiety that he always used drugs to decrease, of everything that he used drugs to escape. He cries. Not soft cries, not ones that people would see in movies, but the ugly cry that is so violent that it shakes his entire body and ends up coming out silent because his vocal cords were already being so strained, the ugly cry that makes him grit his teeth and lock his jaw, horrible squeaks escaping him instead of screams. His mind was taken over by the demons that lived in him. While they couldn’t cause physical harm like Ben’s could, they caused mental harm that could’ve led up to his own painful shattering, just as it had done to Vanya so  _ “long” _ ago. It felt like a million lifetimes away now, but it wasn’t much more than a little bit of time. 

 

He eventually passes out from everything. Everything was too much and even his hands cupped over his ears and knees up to his chest, it was all still too much and too loud. There had been so little in the alleyway that he had run too  _ [He actually had no idea how in the Hell he had gotten there, but he wouldn’t say that.] _ and yet it was all still too overwhelming on him. His mind draws a blank as the ghosts poke and prod at his fragile mindscape. Even during a comatose state, they still invade his entire existence, burning their presence into his memories. No ghost knew what in the Hell remorse was, apparently, and sported no genuine guilt for bugging the broken child. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know the timeline for my own fucking fic. My depression is so bad that I can't even remember shit that I wrote a night or two prior, lmao. This chapter was actually going to be a whole entire new one shot, which is why it's rather outlandish compared to everything else. I've also been fighting with my family a lot lately, big ass oof. 
> 
> HOWEVER, I am doing my best to get as much content out as I can, given that you all have been so amazing and supportive compared to literally any other fandom I've written for. You guys seem to love this shitty thing that was actually just a drabble that I had no idea how to finish and ended up turning into an entire five. For that, I have to thank you all. This support is so greatly appreciated, as I just a depressed teenager dealing with life by inflicting horrid pain on my favorite characters and then getting no only depressed, but also GUILTY because, hey, that could be my life, but it isn't
> 
> Thank you all for the support! I'll do my best to get another chapter out soon!

**Author's Note:**

> I can never write anything happy. 
> 
>  
> 
> Please join my Discord server!  
> https://discord.gg/eGkwayy
> 
>  


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